THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES J RESURGAM: POEMS AND LYRICS O. R. HOWARD THOMSON PHILADELPHIA WILLIAM M. BAINS 1915 COPYRIGHT BY O. R. HOWARD THOMSON 1915 PRESS OF THE GAZETTE AND BULLETIN WILLIAM8PORT. PA. To ADELHEID ACKNOWLEDGMENT is made of the courtesy of the Editors of "The Book News Monthly," "The Living Church" and "The Public Ledger" in permitting the inclusion in this volume of four poems which originally appeared in those periodicals. CONTENTS PAGE RESURGAM - 1 THE EASTER OF LAZARUS 2 A FANTASY - 5 THE AGNOSTIC 7 LILITH 10 THE HILL-TOP 15 GOLD 21 WINTER NIGHT - - 23 THE CHILDREN AT THE GATE - 21 THE CHRIST-CHILD 26 IN MEMORIAM 27 TO DEIRDRE OF THE SORROWS 28 THE CRUCIFIX 30 TO 32 TEMPLES AND TABERNACLES - 33 THE DEAD SCIENTIST 34 DEATH AND LIFE 35 TRIOLET --- 36 RESURGAM THE warm wind carries in its breast a song; The mountain brooks make music as they flow ; And scarlet tulips dare the half-veiled sun, Flames, such as theirs, to show. The tree-crowned hills suck in the vernal haze; Earth bares her bosom to the quickening rain ; The wakened chipmunks slyly peep abroad And blue-birds flash again. And through the veins of watching, listening man, There flows some little of that pagan wine That called forth visions of fair nymphs at play, Whose beauty was divine. And in his ears re-echo ancient tales, Told in the dusk beneath a violet sky, Of hidden things in cedar groves, and forms Soft-footed, passing by. And though Pan 's pipe no longer sounds afar, He turns towards Enna, Proserpina's vale, And to the Ghosts of all the vanished Gods He softly whispers "Hail!" THE EASTER OF LAZARUS PEACE, Mary! Peace! I do rejoice I feel the same clear fire illumes my heart That makes the turquoise of thy sister's eyes Shine like still waters in the sun. But I have died And live again ; and know too much to take Part in thy exultations or thy tears. I knew too much to beat upon my breast, Or cast myself upon the ground, or cry Aloud, when, midst the earthquake, and the light That conquered that strange midnight of the noon, Thou earnest, wailing, back from Calvary To weep. Nor shall I weep as thou wilt weep, Some few weeks hence when He departs. Nay, nay! I am not cold : I knew that He would rise I learned so much when I was dead But that, Which thou wouldst know, I may not speak: and that, I would recall, I half forget. Hush ! Hush ! Thou must not couple Lazarus with Christ Two risen from the dead nor, through thy love, Imagine death is past for Lazarus. I tell thee Death grins satyr-like, and licks His lips, against the time when he shall feast THE EASTER OF LAZARUS 3 A second time on me. Look on my face : And feel the wrinkles just beneath my eyes : They were not there when I was raised. But He If Christ should stay a thousand years on earth, Anticipating the millenium, Not one gray hair would show amidst the brown. Did I not tell thee, that, when I was dead I learned too much either to joy or grieve In that abandonment of ecstasy That makes the soul feel almost kin to God, Or sport of fiends. I think more than I feel : And, if my case were thine, wouldst thou not wonder Sometimes, perchance, when looking on the sea, Or in the watches of the night, when half The stars are veiled, and nothing lives or moves, Except the gloomy cypress trees, why He Had called thee back? It must have been He loved Me, and the priests are lying hypocrites Saying: "He did it to impress the multitude." He must have known all that it meant to me To know that I must die a second time I, who remember what it is to die And make my body for the second time, A caravansary for worms. Go in And talk with Martha, for I wish to think. 4 THE EASTER OF LAZARUS Yet do not dream, that I am not content : Did I not tell thee that my heart was light It is no little thing to know, that when He stood beside my grave, He wept. A FANTASY "A man of a family great Ban away with a pretty maid : The maid she died, and the man he cried, But his friends, they were all elate." (Ballad). THEY called thee names Shrugged their round shoulders in their hate, Whispering foul things they dared not state : Yet, none of those proud dames, Could make thee less than wondrous fair, Or dim the lustrous red-gold hair That girt about thy head. Yet now, thy pulse is stilled, And no more past thy ripe red lips Thy breath in balmy odor slips, For they, alas, are chilled : And each dear eye is veiled and hid By the fringed beauty of its lid, To ope;, alas, no more. No more ! A world of woe Is gathered in those words of doom. The Earth shall follow in the gloom The path that she should go ; 6 A FANTASY And all along that dreary way Shall myriad eyes greet each new day, Yet thine, shall ope no more. Ah Love! how sore a jest To leave me, here alone, forlorn When we a deathless troth had sworn Come back, and make me blest. Come back, and bend thy lips to mine, Let thy rich hair with mine entwine, Let hand repose in hand . Let thy soft bosom beat In loving rhythm 'gainst my breast That place where thou wert wont to rest- Until Alas, I cheat My mind with visions, fair but vain, E'en now my tears fall like the rain In witness thou art dead. THE AGNOSTIC ALL that you say means nought. I am not one To be affrighted by mere words; else I Had grovelled and abjured the verdict of my brain When the high bishops of your wide-flung church Condemned my soul to everlasting fire ; Or when Rome's cardinals, in scarlet robes, Pronounced anathemas upon my head. To you, had you been present, it had seemed, Beneath the damnatory clauses of their creeds, I must have shrivelled up, as shrivel slugs Cast by a gardener on his furnace coals. Yet still I live ; still shines the sun for me ; Still apple-blossoms in the spring-time trust The warm south wind to bring me where, I lie The fragrance of their souls ; still in the morn The birds sing songs for me, and perch upon My chamber's window-sill. I say you know No more than I. Belief is not the same As knowledge. When I was young, God sang Within my soul ; each church 's cross-crowned spire Pointed to Heaven ; and every prayer I breathed Rose on strong pinions to that far-off place 8 THE AGNOSTIC Where angels cast down golden crowns before A throne, encompassed with a radiance More lovely than the radiance, of the dawn. Well, I am old, and all my fire gone out : My life has been one long dismantlement Of gorgeous trappings which I stole from dreams. I have my house, some books, and with some men, Whom you despise, some little meed of fame. I do not seek to gather proselytes To spread my views I know I do not know, Nor ever can until my heart-beats cease ; And even then, should it be mankind's fate To vanish, as a candle's flame goes out, I shall not know. My friend, let us be friends. It is not arrogance that makes man doubt, Nor hate, nor anything save lack of proof, Or if you so prefer, a lack of light Within what you term souls. Let me enjoy The comradeship of men who are but men, The sunshine and the shadows on the hills, The sound of water in the mountain dells, The whir of birds upstarting from the grass, The scent of pine-trees in the lonely woods. I have no children, and I sometimes think 'Tis better so. I do not know that I Could give them such a youth as I enjoyed: For I was mad, and every day I lived, As I have told you, God sang within my soul, THE AGNOSTIC And every pulse within my body throbbed With passion to unite with him. Well, well, What use is all this wordiness? To-day, I do not know I do not know. LILITH As NIGHT withdrew, reluctant to fold up The purple draperies with which she veiled The garden that was made for man, Lilith awoke ; And while her heavy lids still seemed inclined To hide again the deep pools of her eyes She, with the luxurious abandon of a queen, Stretched her bare arm. She was so beautiful, So utterly and wholly beautiful, It seemed the sun, now peeping o'er the crests Of Eden's hills, climbed drawn by desire; And that the stars, faint in the kindling sky, Had paled in sheer despair. A moment's space Her firm, cool fingers played, unconsciously As some young child's might play, amongst The long blades of the grass, that grew a scant Two palm's-breadths from the heaped up boughs Of balsam-fir whereon she couched. Anon She turned and resting all her body's weight Upon her straightened arm, hung over Adam With a stern face, her lips drooping a little, And her smooth forehead puckered in a frown. The light Broadened, and a long tress of her black hair 10 LILITH ii Slipping from off her alabaster breasts Touched Adam, so that he waked and lay, His head supported in his hollow hands, With eyes unblinking staring at the sky. "Oh fool," she said, then paused while regally she raised Her lithesome body to its utmost height ; And once again, "Thou blind, blind fool," she said One had not thought that her soft lips could curl In such disdain, though pity, love's last fruit, Strove with her scorn for mastery. "Will Eve," She, asked, "with her soft limbs climb to the tops Of the great hills with thee as I have climbed, My bosom heaving never more than thine? Or will she cleave the waters of the lake Side by thy side, laughing to see the sun Change into diamonds the, drops that from her hands Drip, as they dripped from mine : or diving deep Catch thee below the surface and in utter joy Kiss thee despite the water's weight? Oh fool, Oh blind ! fit father of a race to come, Doomed in its age to stay as blind As are the new-born cubs the panther guards From straying where the jackal hunts." Upon The giant plane-tree's topmost branch, a thrush, Waked by a beam the sun shot o'er the hill, 12 LILITH Turned towards the east and cast about the leaves Splashes of music, full throated bursts of song And joyous orisons, until the air Sweet with the scent of dew-encrusted May, Vibrated in a soundless harmony. But Adam lay as though he heard it not ; As though the earth were hideous and dead; As though no sunlight was, no music breathed, No perfume moved ; as though the green-clad world Could boast of nothing that was beautiful. Then Lilith spake, " Last night the moon grew old : Her light was jaundiced, and her rays were but Pale travesties of those she cast when young; Her beauty waned, it was no longer crescent ; Her farther edge was ragged as a leaf Gnawed by a worm. Decay was in the air : And through the grove, on bare-soled stealthy feet Crept whispers, uttering lies. I do not say This was thy fault ; yet surely it had been More worthy thee if thou hadst stopped thine ears. When we two came together in the light That bathed this garden on our marriage morn, I did not ask thy parentage ; then now Why shouldst thou question mine? What if the snake's Were once my form? Surely my bosom shows no scales : Nor have my limbs, when by thy hands caressed, LILITH 13 Betrayed such origin. Look how the sun Shines on my flesh : I dare his strongest light Nor fear his verdict. Oh, thou purblind fool ! Dost thou believe that whilst thou art asleep I steal away and, as a screech-owl, prey On flesh of weaker things ; or clothe myself In vampire's form to suck the blood that flows A crimson torrent through the veins of beasts ? What wizardry hast thou at any time, Beheld me use what spells heard me recite? Canst thou recall strange wavings of my hands, Or braziers held above a charcoal flame Surrounded by strange images ? Such things Are children, fathered by disordered minds Frightened by something happening in the dark : Yet, in this morning light, which should dispel Doubt with the night-grown mists, thou liest there Unspeaking ; hugging to thy heart the thought I caught thee by old runes, and held thee since Captive by dint of web-like, sorceries : So will thy sons in future times, hug lies, To salve their consciences when they desire To ape the brute, and gain new partners to Assuage their lusts. I would not hold in thrall, Through magic, any meanest thing that lives, Or shall hereafter live. I used no charm. I was no demon's leman, learning spells Taught me, while, clasped in evil arms, to snare Thee to thy ruin. What were such to me ? I tell thee that the whispers lied ! Yet they i 4 LILITH Glimpsed half the, truth : I am myself enough, Or so I thought, to lure from Paradise One half her populace. Satan, himself, Had been content to bend the knee ; had been Content to be, 'God's man' to fetch and carry Had but the pay been Lilith." She ceased, And stretching up her arms until they found Support against the great tree's giant trunk, Bowed her proud head between. Then Adam rose; And looking neither to the right or left, And looking not upon her where she wept, Walked slowly down unto the water's edge Where Eve stood gazing at her golden hair Reflected in the stream. THE HILL-TOP I THE HILL THREE trees, that top the low hill's rounded crest, Bare of all leaves, as earth of life seems bare ; A sickly sun, too pale to light the west Or dry the damp that saturates the air. What did I say to her, what said she in reply Should not our love have stood, us two, between? How low the sun hangs in the leaden sky : Autumn is ever gray as Spring is green. II DREAMS Last night I dreamed many dreams, One, of a year ago When 'neath the sun's reviving beams The hill was all aglow ; And nestling in the grass still wet I found a purple violet. She leaned against a young ash-tree, My hands the flower held ; Far down the valley flowed a stream That from the hillside welled : I read my answer in her eyes Better than words are such replies. 15 16 THE HILL-TOP Again I dreamed, a dream full bad, For evil spirits hovered near; Gray forms in misty garments clad Ghosts such as haunt the dying year They wailed aloud, ''The Spring is gone, Wander abroad alone, forlorn." Ill QUEBEC The streets are, narrow, the hills are steep, In the market place may no man sleep, Nor ever stop for thought. A stone shaft stands on Abraham's Plain, To mark the spot where Wolfe was slain, As he seized the prize that the great Champlain To France by conquest brought. Two tongues the people use for speech, The priests a third for prayer ; And ever along the plaza's reach Is heard the sound of passing feet : The Scotch troops pace with their bare red knees By the side of nuns from the nunneries, And Padres jostle the bright red coats Of His Majesty's troops, who watch the boats, That form Quebec's small fleet. Six candles burn in the church's aisle. Here should a man find peace for a while If in no other place. He who hath lost what he loved the most THE HILL-TOP 17 Cannot be saddened to see the Host Offered afresh for a soul that is loosed, In token of God's grace. Surely, the woman all dressed in black Must be the dead one's mother: Ah, haply Christ will her tears unslack So that she shall not smother. What name is that that her dry lips said? 'Tis the name of her child that lieth dead. I cannot bear that her lips should frame O'er her dead child's corpse my lost love's name So out into the street. IV ON BARNEGAT The halliards thrash, the tiller bends, The lee-rail buries deep : The spray flies slanting o'er the bow, The waves like madmen leap. Astern there drives another boat Her canvas bellied round ; Her sharp prow cleaves a true straight course With gentle, purring sound. A foot or two I ease my sheet The wind has grown a gale ; A flaw that strikes me unprepared Makes ribands of my sail. i8 THE HILL-TOP And while I strive to bring my craft Head up, into the wind, To windward, passes that slim boat A moment since behind. Alone I drift, forlorn, inert; Chill comes with sinking sun How should I steer, whose hands were weak And lost the jewel they won? V THE MONK Last night I saw a lean, gaunt monk, With tonsured head on bosom sunk A-telling of his beads. So frail of form and voice was he, I asked him if he'd pardon me, If I should ease his needs. He said he wanted nothing more, Than that his brethren had in store, Yet, looking in his eye, I thought I read his secret there, Naked and cold, and wholly bare And that he wished to die. I wondered why he took the vow That made him such as he, was now, So piteous and sad I wondered if a woman's face THE HILL-TOP 19 Denied to him, but full of grace, Had charmed him as a lad. VI AT THE OPERA Outside the wind blows chill And snow-flakes filter through a murky sky ; Inside, are myriad lights, and people fill The house from pit to dome. How fair the women are, to see ! White are their shoulders, milk-colored are their pearls, Rich jewels glimmer in their perfumed curls, Their furs are like sea-foam. A bass viol speaks; A silvern flagonet whispers soft reply Then stops and sleeps. A shrill horn shrieks, Like to a soul beneath the strain Of mortal agony; Throbbing the violins break forth, yet quick their song is drowned 'Neath trumpets' brazen calls and wood-winds' wail ing sound : Then all is still again. A woman's voice of gold Shatters the silence,, as a sunbeam strong Breaks through thin clouds too weak to hold The earth in dark embrace 20 THE HILL-TOP She sings some old love song. Curst be the world, and curst be those who scheme Ever to wake in me that bygone dream That I would fain efface. VII THE HILL-TOP Again the hill and those three trees I knew : Why did I go? Ah, God alone can tell ; Perchance I thought, while knowing 'twas not true, To see the spot might help to make me well. I gained the crest and gazing down the road Saw that slim form, that ever dwelt with me : I saw the bridge 'neath which the small stream flowed, And heard the robins in the young ash-tree. She came to me all dressed in yielding white, With hands outstretched, the love light in her eyes; Yet I stood dumb, and swaying in the light, Groping for truth as for lost melodies. Sudden her hand went fingering with her dress And from her bosom drew a withered violet. Has sorrow kinship with great happiness? I wiped her eyes the while mine own were wet. GOLD IN the black of the midnight hour, in the womb of the, sweating Earth, In the strength of their hate and power, the Hell- Gods brought me to birth : My muscles they forged in the fire, my thews they shaped in the blast, With a purpose vengeful and dire, I was loosed in the world at last. With cunning my seed I have scattered, My grains of exceeding worth : The might of my rivals is shattered It is I, rule the Earth ! In the gloom of the, Early Ages, while the Earth was young in her years, By the hands of the wizened Sages, the Seekers who knew no fears, My grains were dragged from the places, where long they had lain alone ; They were shown to the many races who now are the slaves that I own : For deep in their hearts have they nourished The love of my might and my worth : My sway it has prospered and flourished It is I, rule the Earth ! 21 22 GOLD The Kings that to dust have crumbled, the Knights of the Ancient Day, That over the Earth have rumbled, in heavy battle- array, Made jests of faith and of duty, made dupes of the Hosts that they led : It was for my yellow beauty that the blades of their swords ran red. Compared to my golden glitter They counted all else nothing worth : With a yoke that is heavy and bitter It is I, rule the Earth ! I am followed by Murder and Riot, an Harlot reigns over my feasts ; The tongues of the Prophets are quiet, and drawn are the fangs of the Priests : My chink sets the Nations to quaking, I govern their armies vast, The Kingdoms are but of my making, my grip it hath gotten them fast. The Earth and her teeming millions Shall dance, or war, for my mirth : By the glint of my golde,n billions It is I, rule the Earth ! WINTER-NIGHT THE snow flakes fall, And cold winds brawl, Down the chimney and chill the hall : The snow has blotted out pavement and street; It lies dead white it has no sheen But looks like a winding sheet. Beyond the village the fields are white, The flowers are dead of the frost-fiend 's bite, Of a moss-edged road there is never a sight God ! for one patch of green ! The snow flakes fall, And cover all, Even the ground by the graveyard wall. Two gaunt trees stand sentinel there It were better they were not seen Their branches are so bare. Between their trunks where bleak winds blow, A white grave stone o 'ertops the snow, Which is the whiter, I do not know God ! for one patch of green ! THE CHILDREN AT THE GATE THE sturdy villagers within The dark oak-panelled hall, Had looked upon him as the lord Who ruled them one and all : And I without but watched the rain Drip from the gutted slate; The while some children idly played Beneath the old lych-gate. Bearing their load the mourners moved And laid it in the grave ; Full in their faces drave the rain Like spray whipped from a wave. "Sancta Maria ! Ah, how sad ! Might not the rain abate?" And all the while the children played Beneath the old lych-gate. The white-haired preacher's frail voice broke; None caught the words he said : But ; suddenly a sharp gust blew A rift above his head : CHILDREN AT THE GATE Athwart the east a rainbow showed, Its colors roseate The idle children kneeling prayed Beneath the old lych-gate. THE CHRIST-CHILD THE Christ-child lay in the stable, Two thousand years ago : Mary, his mother, watched him The ground was hidden by snow. The Priests they were sleek with good living, The Pharisees feared not a fall, The, Merchants were served as are princes : None heeded the Christ-child at all. The Christ-child cometh each Christmas, Anew, to the earth, it is said : Mary, his mother, watcheth, From heaven, overhead. New Priests are sleek in their livings, New Pharisees fear not a fall, New Merchants are served as are princes : None heed the Christ-child at all. 26 IN MEMORIAM WHEN did we swear our oaths? I do not know; For when we sware them, Seasons ceased to be, And Time, freed of division, was as truly whole As is the sea. It may be that about us storms have raged ; That wintry blasts have driven keen-edged snow Against our faces, till we stooped and bent our heads I do not know. All I remember is a sense of utmost peace, A life, lived in a flower-bespangled field, Checkered with sunlight, and perfumed with the scent That roses yield. Now, I left desolate, would welcome change, Time will not wake nor Seasons come again, Though all the flowers are dead, and ever o'er the field Are clouds and rain. 27 TO DEIRDRE OF THE SORROWS BLIND are the bards that so much pity thee, And couple,, "Of the Sorrows," to thy name: Oh, Deirdre ! better if they wept for me Whose love hath burned with unrequited flame. Men should not weep because thou wouldst not grace The bed Conchubar long prepared for thee : Thine was thy youth, and thine thy wondrous face, For which so many perished dolorously. Seve,n years thou hadst with Naoise and each night Lay warm upon his breast, that knew no care Save to fulfill thy wishes, till the light Came with the morning, and he kissed thy hair. Seven years before the King struck down thy mate So long a time the Gods were kind and gave : Why should men weep because thou wouldst not wait, But chose to clasp thy lover in his grave. 28 TO DEIRDRE OF THE SORROWS 29 Of me, alas, no man has wanted aught Like empty gourds my breasts are brown and dry : Love with mere longing is not gained nor bought Not, though a woman panteth hungrily ! THE CRUCIFIX ALL know that I slept in the old chateau, Girt round with giant trees, And that one night when the oaks sang songs As they bent their heads in the breeze I found I was facing a crucifix And praying on my knees. The Christ was of yellowed ivory, The cross was of walnut wood, Carved by skilled hands that the Devil taught More than was understood Else, why did I stretch my hands to seize, And hold it if I could? But it came apart where the cross-piece stretched Beneath God's thorn-crowned head; The lower part was no cross at all But a dagger's sheath instead; The, blade, though tarnished, was keen of edge And stained with a blotch of red. Am I, or the man who that weapon made, To blame that mine enemy fell THE CRUCIFIX 31 That my hands are red as the stain on the blade He fashioned so wondrous well : That I, who slept in the chateau's peace, Now sleep in a prison-cell? TO SWEET, aye 'tis sweet, to lie at ease Midst yellow daffodils; To smell the vagrant spring-born breeze New scented from the hills : To stretch full length upon the grass And watch the clouds above me pass. Yet ah, much sweeter 'tis to lie, My head upon thy breast, Whose creamy whiteness doth defy Comparison or test : And in that haven of thy grace To feel thy hair blow o'er my face. "The groves were God's first temples." Bryant. LIKE drunkards to an inn, men flock these days To tabernacles, where revivalists let loose On fellow men, coarse humor, blasphemous abuse And jibes. Surely the woods, soft with the haze Of Spring's awakening, or later all ablaze With Autumn's tints, should teach mankind some what Of what true worship is ; should show that not From noise and shouting cometh worthy praise. Peace fills the places which God made for prayer: No sounds obtrude save whispering winds and song Of trusting birds : no rough exhorters there Denounce, with uncouth oratory and strong Repellent voices, creatures He has made Within God's temples all walk unafraid. 33 THE DEAD SCIENTIST EACH year, anew, he felt he could not fail To tear the veil that Nature held, and strove Amidst a mental labyrinth that, (like a grove Which sucks the sun and makes the noonday pale,) Made shadows seem like giants, while the trail Was blotted out, and the law he sought To show why atoms when in contact brought Should flash to life, was sought without avail. His brain is stilled, and all the thoughts he cast In studied phrases, while he slowly trod The laboratory's length, are but the past Babblings of genius bound to a testing-rod : Yet on his lips a smile tells how at last He passed the baffling curtain, and found God. 34 DEATH AND LIFE THERE are too many feeble souls to-day Who drape their shoulders with the poet's robe And attitudinize, as if this globe Were better for their vaporings : souls that display Lean, pigmy thoughts tricked out in the array Of magic poesy ; weak souls whose breath Is all exhausted in a paean of Death, Sole solace of their unheroic clay. Great souls face death unflinching, with calm eyes, Heirs of Rhegium and the Spartan brood : Yet, they attest life's pulsing ecstasies And the mad glory of its amplitude. Death, is denial : Life, an act of God Pity poor things grown envious of the sod ! 35 TRIOLET GIVE me a red rose from thy hair To wear forever on my breast ; If thou wouldst ease my deep despair Give me a red rose from thy hair, Touched by thy hands so white and fair ; If thou wouldst make me doubly blest, Give me a red rose from thy hair To wear forever on my breast. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. FormL9 15w-10,'48(B1039)444 A 001 247 045 6 PS 3539 T385i-